by Nina Croft
Chapter Seven
“A real headache—honest,” Faith said with a weak smile. “I have some painkillers in my bag. Would you get them for me?”
Ash stared down at her and tried to slow his heart rate. She’d scared him. And even now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something seriously wrong. Her face was so pale, and he could tell from the way she held herself that she was hurting.
“Pills,” she reminded him.
“Shit, sorry.” Casting her one last worried glance, he scrambled to his feet and headed into the kitchen where she’d left her bag. He grabbed it, then got a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the tap.
She was lying exactly where he’d left her, her eyes closed, her figure tense. After putting the glass on the table, he crouched down beside her. He opened the bag and found the bottle of pills, read the instructions, and shook two out onto his palm.
“Faith?”
When he got no answer, he touched her lightly on the shoulder. Her lids flew open and she gave a little jump.
“Here.” As he held out the pills, she parted her lips. The lips he’d been kissing only minutes earlier. He placed the medicine on her tongue and reached behind him for the water, cupping the back of her neck while she drank to hold her steady. Her eyes closed and he laid her back and straightened.
But she didn’t appear comfortable. He crossed the room into the hall and found her bedroom. After grabbing a pillow and the bedspread, he hurried back. She hadn’t moved, and he gently lifted her head, placed the pillow beneath, and covered her with the spread.
As he sank down into the chair opposite, he was shaking.
She’d scared him. Some big, bad demon, he was. It had been so long since he’d kissed a woman that his immediate thought had been he was doing something wrong. Or that he’d sprouted horns, or something equally demonic. Jesus. At least his dick had stopped throbbing. His erection hadn’t survived the shock.
It had been going so well. At least it had seemed to be. She’d been responding. She’d wanted him, he was sure, and he’d been all ready to let her have him. For such a prickly woman she’d gone all soft and pliant in his arms, and she’d tasted so sweet. He’d been planning to taste her all over. At the thought, his dick gave a little twitch.
Thank God.
He picked up his half-empty glass of wine and gulped it down in one go, then poured the rest of the bottle into his glass and studied her.
As though she could sense his scrutiny, she blinked open her eyes. “If I forget to tell you,” she murmured, “you’re a great kisser.”
“Thanks.”
Her brows drew together. “Which is sort of weird, because you’re really not my type.”
Her words were slightly slurred—he presumed the drugs must be taking effect.
“You have a type?”
“I do. Men in suits and ties. Nice men, with short hair…” She thought for a moment. “And definitely no tattoos.”
Ash rubbed Lucifer’s sigil wound tight around his upper arm. “Well, the tat I can’t doing anything about, but it so happens that tomorrow I’m due a makeover.”
This was his and Ryan’s I-will-if-you-will makeovers, ready for the first of their meetings tomorrow afternoon.
“You are? That will be nice.”
She closed her eyes and eventually, her ragged, little breaths evened out until she was breathing smoothly and he was sure she was sleeping. He rose slowly, leaned down, picked up her bag, and headed into the kitchen, closing the door softly behind him.
Humans were so fragile, but was this normal? Was she ill?
He pulled his cell from his pocket and punched in Ryan’s number.
Ryan answered after the first ring.
“Is Faith all right?” Ash asked without bothering with a greeting.
“Ash?”
“Yeah. Is Faith ill?”
“Where is she?”
“At her place and she had this headache.”
Ryan snorted. “Are you sure it wasn’t made up to get rid of you?”
“No, and she didn’t—get rid of me I mean—I’m still here. I gave her some pain killers she had and she’s sleeping.”
Ryan was silent for a moment. “My last night on the force, she had some sort of blackout. I didn’t think it was serious. She went to the hospital, but they said it was just for observation. Maybe it’s something to do with that.”
“Thanks.”
“You sound a little shaky.”
“It was a shock.”
“It can’t be anything serious or she wouldn’t be back at work. They’d make her get the all clear. Unless…”
“Unless…”
“Unless she didn’t report it. It was my last night and it didn’t occur to me.”
“Maybe I’ll ask her when she wakes.”
“Good luck with that.”
Ash ended the call and turned his attention to the contents of Faith’s bag. He examined the pill bottle first and took a note of the drugs. They were prescription—that was more serious, wasn’t it?
Humans were so fragile. The idea had never bothered him before, but strangely, he found himself wanting to protect her, keep her safe. A definite first for him.
He found the ID badge. Detective Connolly. MI13. Military Intelligence. He’d been reading up on them prior to his meeting with Ryan. But he’d never come across an MI13 before. They could look into it tomorrow.
There was nothing else of any interest. A purse with a couple of credit cards and her driver’s license. A comb but no makeup, not even lipstick, and he realized she wasn’t wearing any. Hadn’t been on either occasion he’d met her.
He had a quick nose around the house. As she’d said, it was functional at best with very few personal effects on display and spotlessly clean. Finally, he returned to the living room, sat back down, and watched her. Somewhere before dawn, he fell into a light doze.
…
“Thank you.”
Ash blinked open his eyes at her softly spoken words. Faith was sitting up opposite, the cover still wrapped around her, but at least her face had some color again.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Headache all gone. Thanks for looking after me, but you didn’t have to stay.”
“I couldn’t leave you alone.”
“Of course you could. I’m a big girl, and you owe me nothing.”
“What about family? Is there anyone I can call who can come and stay with you?”
Annoyance flashed across her face. “I told you—I’m fine.”
“Ryan said you’d been ill.”
“Ryan had no fucking right. And you had no right to call him and talk about me.”
“I was worried.”
She ran hand across her face and he watched as she brought herself under control. “Sorry. It’s a touchy subject. I blacked out one night. But they’ve done a whole load of tests and there’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Except the headaches.”
“Yes, and they will go in time.”
“Good.”
She pushed the blankets away. “Well, I’m going to shower and head into work.”
“I’ll wait and give you a lift.”
There was that flash of annoyance again. Why did he get the impression that she wanted him gone? That she hated that he’d seen her vulnerable?
“You don’t have to. I have a few chores I want to do on the way in.”
He thought about pushing it but decided he would likely put her back up.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll leave now as long as you agree to meet me for lunch, so I can see for myself that you’re fine.”
Her eyes narrowed as she chewed on her lower lip. Finally, she gave a curt nod. “One o’clock where you picked me up last night.”
“Okay.”
She got up. He followed her out into the hall and watched as she disappeared into the bathroom, wincing as she slammed the door. The headache was definitely gone.
<
br /> …
Faith couldn’t believe he had stayed with her all night. She hadn’t put him down as the caring type. Maybe because of all the leather and tattoos. But she could remember him looking after her. He’d been kind.
And he must have been disappointed. He’d taken her home, obviously expecting a torrid sex session and instead, he got to play nurse.
On the train into work, she’d thought about calling him to cancel lunch. But she didn’t have his number, so she would have to call Ryan. Then she’d have to put up with him asking about the blackout and no doubt asking why she wanted Ash’s number. Though if Ash had called him last night, he was probably already aware that his new partner was at his old partner’s house.
And why the hell would he care anyway? There had never been anything like that between her and Ryan, and if he was partnered with Ash, he must think he was okay.
In the end, she hadn’t bothered. If she decided she didn’t want to see him, she’d stay in the office. He was hardly likely to be able to get to her through the four layers of security he’d need to clear to reach her desk.
As she made her way to her desk, she nodded to a few people she recognized. Her workstation was in a large room with four others, the spaces divided into cubicles. Yesterday, only two of them had been occupied. Hers and the one farthest away. She’d winced when he’d looked up and she’d seen the dog collar. This place appeared to be staffed by priests and ex-soldiers. It was going to be so much fun working here.
She’d bought a coffee from the bar next door, which hadn’t gone down too well with security. They’d confiscated it as though it might be poisoned or contain a bomb or a hidden camera. She bought one from the coffee machine that was past all the security. She hoped it was better than the stuff at Scotland Yard. As she put her bag in her drawer, she realized she’d forgotten her gun; she wasn’t used to carrying, and it was still in the kitchen where she’d taken it off last night.
She switched on her monitor. This morning, she planned to go over the files on Rosamund Fairfax. The witch.
Rosamund Fairfax had turned up in London fifteen years previously, but there was no connection between her and CR International until about a month ago. After the murder of Julie Foster and the abduction of Jessica.
Bummer.
Faith had been so sure that must be how she’d known about Jessica’s whereabouts. “Shit.”
“Are you talking to me?” an amused voice said. She glanced up and found the colonel standing behind her. Again.
“No, just the world in general. So any sign of that clearance yet? I could really do with access to that evidence you keep talking about.”
“Not yet. The boss is away on business right now, but we’ll get to it as soon as he’s back. So have you contacted your old partner?”
She was in a bind, because she didn’t want to lie to her new boss, but she didn’t want to involve Ryan any more than she had to.
“No. I’ve tried and it seems he’s avoiding me. I went over there, but he was apparently ‘out.’ I spoke to his new partner, and I think he might be a better way in.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, he asked me out—I’m thinking about it.”
“What was his name?”
“Ashton Delacourt.”
“Move over.”
Faith slid her chair out of the way to give the colonel more room and he typed in the name. “Nothing.”
He pressed something else and finally his thumb to the keypad. No doubt getting access to those “interesting” files. “Still nothing,” he muttered. “We have no file on the man.” He cleared his access and stepped back. “Never mind, I suggest you accept Mr. Delacourt and I’ll get our researchers working on him.”
She felt a pang of guilt as though she was handing Ash over to the bad guys. Which was plain stupid. If he hadn’t done anything wrong, they wouldn’t find anything. If he had, then he deserved whatever he got.
Ryan had always said she was too black and white, that people weren’t bad or good but all sorts of levels in between. But she’d never believed that. You had choices in life, and what you made of those choices defined who you were. At some point in most people’s lives, they had to decide. Good or bad.
“So you visited CR International. Did you meet anyone else?”
“Rosamund Fairfax came in while I was there and another woman—Tara Roth.”
He raised a brow, a sign she was beginning to think meant he was surprised or even impressed. “Christian Roth’s new wife. And what did you make of her?”
“Didn’t have time to make anything. We met only briefly.”
He pursed his lips. “Well, if you can find some way to get closer to her—do it.”
“Yes, boss.”
After the colonel had disappeared into his office, she spent a while longer reading the files and finding very little of interest.
The only good thing about the morning was Faith’s headache had gone as though it had never been there. Actually, she felt great and grateful there had been no other symptoms.
It was nearly time to make the decision whether to meet Ash or not. But she knew she was going; she had to get out of here for a while or go crazy.
She stopped at the final checkpoint. “Did you enjoy my coffee?” she asked the guard. Ex-army she reckoned though he was dressed in a private-security-firm uniform.
“Yes, but next time I prefer two sugars.”
“Ha-ha.” She made to walk out, but paused. “Have you worked here long?”
A wary expression crossed his face. Probably cross-referencing her question against his list of things he wasn’t allowed to talk about. She’d been given one herself, and it had been long. “Two years.”
“And have you met the boss?”
“The colonel? Every day.” He sounded puzzled.
“No, I meant the colonel’s boss.”
“He has one?”
Obviously not then. She smiled and headed out of the building.
Stepping out into the open was like being reborn. For a minute, she stood, inhaling deeply. The air was hardly fresh. Late August in the center of London and it smelled of hot car fumes and too many people. But she loved it anyway.
As usual, she’d dressed in one of the black pants suits she always wore for work, but added her favorite top, a stretch red shirt that hugged her slight curves and made her skin appear white.
She strolled along the street keeping an eye out for Ash. He’d be hard to miss, but she couldn’t spot him anywhere. Maybe he’d decided she was too much bother and he didn’t want to get to know her better after all.
Some part of her whispered that would be for the best. She hated the idea that she was using him, lying to him. She’d make a crap undercover policewoman, as she found lying almost pathologically impossible and most people would see though her in a flash.
But the rest of her—the body part rather than the mind—felt a huge stab of disappointment.
She’d been trying not to think about it, but now she had a sudden flashback to the feel of his huge hands on her breasts. Little flutters started up in her belly; it had felt so good. And the kiss. She’d nearly come just from his kiss, from his lips on hers, his hard body pressing against her.
But she couldn’t sleep with someone she was investigating. Though she suspected the colonel would tell her to do whatever was needed to get the information he wanted. But she couldn’t. It was that “good guy, bad guy” thing again. She had her own set of rules.
Leaning against the metal railings, she scanned the crowd for black-clad men and the busy road for black SUVs. But nothing. Then she caught sight of a figure moving toward her. At first, her gaze slid past him. And back, because he was exactly what she liked in a man. Besides, he was tall, towering over the rest of the crowd.
Holy moly.
She had a vague memory of Ash telling her he was getting a makeover this morning. He hadn’t been kidding.
The black leather was gone—and she ha
d to admit to a little pang of regret. Ash had looked great in black leather. In its place, he wore a lightweight, silver-gray business suit that had to have been made to fit him. A pristine white shirt and a dark red tie. His hair was immaculately cut and hugged the shape of his skull, the designer stubble was gone leaving him smoothly shaven. His eyes were covered by designer shades.
He came to a halt in front of her and she snapped her mouth shut because she couldn’t think of anything to say. Except—wow, and she really didn’t want to say that.
“Faith,” he murmured in that low, husky drawl. He reached up and took off the shades and his gaze wandered over her, then back to her face to settle on her mouth. Was he thinking about their kiss? Because she was. “You look beautiful.”
She almost snorted. One of them looked beautiful, and it wasn’t her.
“Are you all right?” he asked when she failed to speak.
She shook herself. “You look…different.”
“Yes, it was a sort of dare from Ryan. We have our first meeting this afternoon, and he didn’t think I wasn’t giving off the right vibes. I said neither was he. So we had a deal—I’d tone down, he’d tidy up.”
She cleared her throat. “Well, it’s official—you’re toned down.”
“You like?” he asked.
“Yeah, you’re gorgeous, now let’s move. We’re causing a traffic jam.”
It was true, people were slowing, no doubt to gawp at Mr. Perfect.
“You hungry? You want to eat?”
Actually, she was starving. At least she hoped that’s what that hollow feeling in her gut was. Hunger and not unrequited lust. But she hadn’t eaten last night and only had coffee for breakfast. “Yeah, I’m hungry.”
“We could go back to my place.” His gaze fixed on her mouth again.
She licked her lips and saw his eyes darken. Then gave herself a good mental shake. “I don’t think so.” Because if she got him alone, she doubted her lust would stay unrequited for long. She’d probably jump him as soon as the door closed behind them. What the hell was wrong with her? She’d never found sex a big deal before; now she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“A restaurant then. I know just the place.”